


Recalling the Familiar

by CorsetJinx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Doctor/Patient (platonic), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Readjusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 09:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7568278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just tell yourself a story that’ll satisfy you and pretend he told it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recalling the Familiar

“When we were young our father would tell us stories.” Genji murmurs. 

His voice is soft enough that it doesn’t carry far and she touches his shoulder to show that she is listening. Even with her eyes are focused on the task of nanomeds to his cybernetic body her ears perk to hear more. He speaks so rarely of his life in Hanamura that she is instantly curious.

“He liked to tell us tales of dragons, of how the world came to be under their scales and claws.” Genji hums, the sound a mix of human and mechanical vibration. His repaired voice box doesn’t crackle anymore, Angela is glad to note. He continues with a tone of fondness, “Sometimes his favorites would be of how even if the world could be destroyed, things could be made anew.”

She sees his head dip and knows that he is looking at his hands and arms, perhaps even past that to his legs. Without the extra armor over his torso she is reminded of how small Genji actually is. Without the coverage of his suit it becomes clear just how much of his body was damaged.

“I would not go so far as to say that you were destroyed, Genji.” Angela sets the syringe aside, empty now, and swipes the area with a sterilizing wipe. His skin turns faintly pink from the alcohol - just as others she has treated do. When she continues her tone softens. “Your sense of humor is still intact, if what Jesse tells me is true.”

He chuckles. Lifts his head to look at her and smiles.

He is still so young beneath all of his scars, yet it is the gleam in his eyes that makes her happy.

“Is the ability to laugh what makes me salvageable, Doctor Ziegler?” His smile fades a little as he asks. He scans her face as though she can give him the answer, either by word or some nuance of body language.

“You are not a mindless drone, Genji.” Her tone is a little short of scolding. Firm enough that she wants him to believe it on both a professional and personal level.

When she reaches out to lay a hand on his other shoulder, scarred flesh and metal beneath her palm, she is his friend as well as his physician.

“It is more than just your laughter that makes your humanity apparent. You are kind and wise, capable of remarkable patience when you choose to be.” Her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “You bring with you a new perspective into the world, seek the answers to questions most have not thought to ask.”

She stops for a moment, slim fingers unconsciously curling over the ball-joint of his shoulder as her mind flickers elsewhere. Another place. A different time.

“In a way,” she starts, a kind of sadness in her eyes. “It makes you more human than I am.”

He cocks his head at that, now intently scrutinizing her expression. Angela believes that it may be concern in his eyes that she sees. Concern and… something that might not have a name.

“I do not believe that.” His protest is quiet where a handful of years ago it would have been louder, bold as brass with frightened youthful energy.

Now, he merely sounds thoughtful.

“Perhaps we are both seeking reminders.” Angela says, lightening her tone so that the words do not seem so heavy.

Genji hesitates. His eyes trail off to the side and then down as though recalling something. Whatever it is tightens his features, bunches the skin and muscles beneath his eyes and around his lips.

“Perhaps… it is as you say.” He finally says, looking up at her once more.

Angela gives him one of her kinder smiles. Starts to help him ease back into the suit that keeps his body functioning, though at this close there is no way for him to hide the shudder as the flexible metal closes over his remaining skin.

She hopes that he cannot read the guilt in her expression.

“Would it help if you told yourself this was like a tale your father might have told?” The question is met with a tilt of his head, visor halfway poised to cover his face. His eyes are shadowed and serious, searching hers as she meets them.

“I am not sure.” He eventually manages, young and old all at once. “I do not feel as though I am entirely whole.”

“You have the rest of your story to achieve it.” She says gently. Her hand does not touch him again as he sits up and attaches the visor to his helmet, the line of green light flickering on and glowing steadily after a second.

“We shall see.” He says.


End file.
